


Shots

by jollux



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drinking, M/M, but not underage, they have like jobs and stuff and everything kind of together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollux/pseuds/jollux
Summary: They go out for a night and drink and stuff it's all fun and whatnot.





	Shots

**Author's Note:**

> This is just or a good time. Just like being drunk and stuff or whatever. Also the title is kind of dumb but I couldn't think of anything let me live.

New York City in December is cold as shit.  It began to snow about an hour ago but the flurries melt as soon as they hit the ground, covering the busy streets in a grimy layer of sleet.  The walk from Ronan’s shitty apartment to Adam’s equally shitty apartment never takes more than ten minutes but the weather makes it feel like 100.

Whatever they had going on hadn’t really been going on long.  It wasn’t quite dating exactly, or maybe it was, they hadn’t had any conversation about it yet.  So it was something, they were just really into each other and have just left it at that.

They hadn’t really seen each other much, either.  They’re both just busy mostly, Ronan had been putting in extra hours at work in hopes of getting a promotion and Adam’s been working relentlessly on his master’s thesis.

They put aside tonight to do something together and take a well deserved break from their chaotic lives.  Neither really had the energy to do something grandiose and their only plan so far came from three texts on Tuesday that Ronan will show up at some point and that maybe they’ll do something.

The warmth leaking out of the building is refreshing, shaking the cold out of Ronan’s bones.

The lobby of Adam’s building looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1970’s.  The walls were a burnt sienna that heavily clashed with the similarly coloured dirty linoleum flooring, only clean where someone had kicked up the corner of the olive green area rug.  Ronan doesn’t have to try to buzz his apartment, an older woman with hands full of junk mail holds the door for him. She’s a little chatty for his taste, but she’s nice and between the lobby and the ninth floor stop on the elevator.

As much as he doesn’t often show it, Ronan is wholeheartedly full of Southern hospitality (depending on weather or not you count his home state of Virginia as Southern, maybe he’s just nice).

The womanーDellaーwas born and raised in New York City (established in 1956, she jokes), she asked where Ronan’s as well from but he’s not sure if she really cared.  She has three kids (Tara, Aimee, and Xavier), Aimee told Della she was pregnant last week and she can’t wait to be a grandmother now. She’s already started knitting the baby a blanket, but it’s green because Aimee and her husband don’t want to know the sex until it’s born.  She also hopes they finally move back to the city, apparently Aimee and her husband have been debating it from a while and maybe a baby will push them to be closer to Della, she doesn’t see them too much while they’re living in Rochester. Ronan smiles politely and laughs when she does, she says that he seems like a nice young man.

It’s only about six minutes from when Della holds the door open and they reach Adam’s floor but by that time Ronan could probably write her biography.

 

When Ronan knocks on Adam’s front door there’s no answer.  His heart sinks just a little. What if he forgot about their date?  What if he’s looking through the peephole but just doesn’t want to see him?

Ronan sighs a little, trying to pull his brain out of its downward spiral and decides to try to open it.

He doesn’t expect it to open, but it does.

Great, now he’s probably murdered.   _ If he’s murdered, I swear to God I’m going to fucking kill him _ , he thinks, trying to stop himself from throwing up out of worry.

“Adam?”  He tries to call for him but it’s barely over a whisper.

Adam’s lying with his head in his arms on the small dining table, shaggy brown hair splayed over an engineering textbook.  Unmistakably asleep.

He looks so peaceful, Ronan considers leaving and letting him get some rest, he could probably use it.

Ronan shakes his shoulder, lightly saying his name.

“Hmm?”  He responds in confusion.

“Hey.”  Ronan smiles.

“Hey.”  Adam smiles back.  He’s more awake now, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head.  “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, like 8:00.”  Adam nods. “You still want to go out tonight?  We could stay in and watch a movie, or something.”

“Considerate, but no fucking way, Lynch.  I need this. The only other people I’ve seen in the past three days have been UberEats drivers and Starbucks baristas.  Just, like, wait fifteen minutes, I need to shower and become a person and whatever.” His sentence rambles at the end and gets up and heads to the washroom.

Ronan takes this time to do something really important: lying on the old dusty couch, scrolling through his Twitter feed.

Adam reemerges a little while later, washed and not in sweatpants.  He has on dark blue skinny jeans (not, like,  _ skinny _ jeans but not parachute pants), a blue flannel shirt, it clashes a little but not enough that it’s offensive, a green army jacket.  Ronan feels his stomach flip, he looks  _ good _ .

He slips on light brown dress shoes at the door.  “Ready?”

Ronan nods, not quite able to verbally respond, he wasn’t finished admiring him yet and wordlessly walks to the door.

To make small talk, Adam asks how Ronan’s trip there was.

Nothing unexpected, the subway was a little late and there was some guy on it tripping balls.  Regular public transit stuff.

“Oh my god, I met the most talkative woman, though,” Ronan recalls.

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“So I see you’ve met Della.”  Adam laughs a little.

“That’s the one.”

“She’s nice even if she is a little chatty, there are some real dicks in here, she’s my favourite in the entire building.  She does  _ really _ like me though, that definitely helps.”

“You’ll have to tell me about how Aimee’s pregnancy goes, I want to be up to date.”

He nods and grins at Ronan and something in him stirs a little at how sweet it is.

Adam holds the door open, chivalry isn’t dead.  “So,” Adam starts. “There’s a dive bar down the street if you wanna go check that out.”

  
  


The bar’s called Lyla’s, it’s on Adam’s busy street tucked away under an antique furniture store.  Ronan’s not really certain how Adam found this place, the only sign was a small one with the word  _ Lyla’s _ etched in a fancy script under an old looking pinup painted above it. 

Adam walks in like he’s been there a million times, like the worn out oak wood floorboards remember the feeling of his footsteps.  He greets the bartender and orders two shots of “whatever’s strongest.”

Ronan assumes one is for him, he reaches for one.  “Nope. Not for you,” Adam says, downing them one after the other.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, no, don’t say that!  I need this! My master’s thesis is due soon!”  Adam laughs, poking his finger into Ronan’s chest.

Ronan orders a beer and listens to Adam complain about his master’s thesis.  It was cliché, but Ronan loved him like this. Not that he’s ‘cute when he’s angry’ or anything, more like his passion about this stuff is endearing.  Ronan listens attentively, tilting his head slightly and taking in every word he said and every vague hand gesture and every facial and verbal quirk he has.  Even though he doesn’t understand the first thing about engineering Adam made him feel like he’s floating. Like his ribcage can’t contain his heart.

 

Adam can’t hold his alcohol.  At all. Ronan’s two and a half beers in and he’s not sober but he can still stand straight.  Adam, however, four shots in, can barely stand without holding onto Ronan like it was the only thing that could keep him from falling into the floor.

To stop Adam’s brain from eating itself Ronan decides that maybe he should take his inebriated boyfriend home.  He downs the last of his beer, paying for all of their drink and tipping the bartender generously.

“Heyheyhey why are you paying for me I can get it I have money,” Adam slurs his words, the all blend together and fall out of his mouth all at once.

“Yeah, except you left your wallet on the bar a half hour ago and it’s been in my pocket since.”

Adam frowns.

“Alright, c’mon.”  Ronan wraps his arm around Adam’s waist and directs him towards the doors.

“Where are we going?”  Adam asks, leaning into Ronan.

“Home.”  Adam’s become tired and doesn’t protest.

The wind outside chills them, Ronan feels Adam body shiver and holds him closer.

 

The three block trip back to Adam’s apartment isn’t easy, he can barely walk in a straight line and Ronan is nearly holding him up.  The added body weight of another person really slowing him down.

When they reach Adam’s apartment, and he nearly falls in through the doorway, Ronan realizes how disheveled he looks.  It was sweet, really, his hair was askew and his shirt was for some reason unbuttoned halfway. He looked like a disaster.  A beautiful, disastrous hurricane.

Ronan pulls off Adam’s jacket and opens the door to his bedroom.

“Are you going to stay?”  Adam asks, his voice is soft and kind of raw.

“I wasn’t going to.”  He pauses, noting the way Adam scrunches his face a bit when he says that.  It breaks his heart just a little. “But I can,” he adds quickly.

Adam nods, and falls back onto his bed.  Ronan pulls off his shirt and jacket, letting them both fall onto the floor before taking his place on the bed beside Adam.

 

They sleep peacefully and dreamlessly.  Ronan wakes close to midday, instinctually reaching his hand to the other side of the bed only to find it empty.  “Adam?” He calls, walking out into the hallway. He hears a groan coming from the bathroom.

The door was open to show Adam on the floor, throwing up into the toilet.  “You okay?”

Another groan.

Ronan sits down beside him on the floor, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him.  They were both disasters. Both complete chaos. Maybe that’s what made it work, their busy lives somehow come together into something that somehow makes sense.


End file.
